


a love like war

by bakusaiga



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2020-10-18 13:43:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20640131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakusaiga/pseuds/bakusaiga
Summary: are gods really gods if no one believes in them anymore? emma finds herself having a hard time convincing herself that they are. — emma/killian, athena/ares. a modern greek myth au.





	1. the rest is rust & stardust

**Author's Note:**

  * For [niniadepapa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/niniadepapa/gifts).

> if this starts to seem familiar to you, i swear i'm not plagiarizing/stealing anything. your girl's just crossposting old stuff from my old fanfiction.net as i leave it in the dust in hopes of entering a new era of writing.
> 
> there is a high possibility that i'm going to completely rewrite this particular story because the ouat/greek myth fusions still give me life, but i've lost sight of the direction i was originally going for with this one, so keep your eyes peeled folks. shit's going to get back on track soon.
> 
> also, list of characters & their greek counterparts are listed in the notes of my fic 'gods & monsters' if you're lost.

The end was nearing.

She could feel it in her bones. The faith was slipping away, the prayers that were always on the tips of their tongues no longer came—this world would was going to fall, and a new one would rise.

Life on Olympus was crumbling beneath their feet.

And the thought of losing him was an unexpected ache in her very core that she was not entirely positive she could handle. Immortality was not the gift the Gods played it out to be, not when their world was always on the verge of falling apart. She knew that things would always change. Things died, only to be reborn again into something far greater, but that did not make losing what they had then and there any less difficult.

**.**

"The tremors have started."

His voice never failed to send shivers coursing through her spine. His fingers only made the action worse as they lingered, just barely, at the sensitive spot on her lower back.

"I expected they would have come sooner. Zeus has been annoyingly unpleasant in his frustration lately." She muttered, her gaze lingering on the scene below them.

Things were changing far quicker than she could have imagined. She didn't know how to act—he seemed far calmer than she was, and that unnerved her all the more. Was he not worried that things would change? Was he not terrified that what they had built would fall apart as easily as their life on Olympus would? She did not know. She was not even sure that she wanted to know, and she dared not ask.

"He was worse the previous time." He answered, a hand sliding along her waist and pulling her closer to him.

Athena thought back on their time with Rome. It was strange, as if she had been someone else entirely during that time, and in a way she very much was. Minerva was not Athena, Mars was not Ares—and Athena was terrified that the people they became would look back and realize that they would not be who they are at this very moment.

She turned in his hold then, steel colored eyes meeting his dark ones and trying desperately to keep a hold on the logic that had always come so easily to her. It was who she was, what came naturally to her, yet at this moment, so close to the end, it wanted nothing more than to leave her behind, with nothing but her emotions to overwhelm her.

Hands reached up then, fingers brushing against the stubble that rang along his jawline and she almost smiled at the way his fingers tightened on her waist; it was something she never got used to, the effect she had on him—or the effect he had on her. Things were never going to be right with them now, not if things happened the way she feared they would. She had spent all this time keeping him at a distance, never knowing that the end for them was near. Without another moment's hesitation, she closed the distance between them, lips molding with his. This was the last chance she would have to do this, the last chance to let him know that no matter how hard she fought it, she had fallen in love with him.

When she pulled back and met his dazed expression, she almost laughed. But the panic in his eyes and the urgency with which he held onto her hands was enough to keep any bit of joy from her expression.

"We will find each other again." He murmured, trying to reassure her, but it only made her smile bitterly up at him.

"Oh, I have no doubt about that, Ares—" They were never truly lost to one another, not physically. No matter how many lifespans they traipsed across, they were Gods, and they were never far apart. "The real question is will we be able to love each other when we have repeatedly been born to be at odds with one another?"

She didn't know it then, but the words haunted him more than he would ever admit—-though, he never would have been given the chance, because that night was the last night Olympus stood tall.

Come morning it would turn to dust, taking them with it.

**.**  
**.  
** **.**

Are Gods really Gods if no one believes in them anymore?

Emma finds herself having a hard time convincing herself that they are. She wakes up every single day feeling the power within her, and she accepts it, but she slips into her daily routine and the surge of power fades, reminding her that though her status remains, she's just another person, another face lost in a crowd that no one will recognize.

She doesn't remember much of the previous life—of the Glory of Mount Olympus that is portrayed so extravagantly in the books she's read a thousand times over, needing to reassure herself that it existed.

She remembers Aphrodite, and her constant presence, constant need to make trouble for her sister and she has to remind herself not to sneer at Regina whenever she sees her around, because the Goddess of Love was always in a sour mood whenever Emma came around.

She doesn't understand what happened that tore them apart in the end but she doesn't really get the chance to dwell on it when she's digging and digging, only to get laughed at by Jones—a poor excuse for a God of War, in her opinion, but she couldn't criticize when there were days she found herself wondering how the title of the Goddess of Wisdom could possibly fit her at all.

It only serves to frustrate her more whenever he shows his face and there's a tugging at her heartstrings, because it's absolutely laughable that they could do anything but absolutely detest one another. But no matter how many books she reads, how often she plays the Trojan War in her head and the aftermath that resulted in even more bad blood between the two of them, in the heat of their arguments there is always a part of her that aches—and not just her heart, her very soul.

There are times she catches him, sitting in a bar with Regina curled up against his side, a saucy smirk on her lips, staring at her with this look in his eyes that makes her wonder if he feels it, too. But then he catches her gaze and his eyes narrow at her, sending a rage coursing through her that she can barely contain and before she knows it, they're in the middle of some half-assed wager that she repeatedly bests him in.

It only fuels the fire—the hatred, and she has to keep him from dragging any mortals down in his games.

It should have all been more than enough to remind her that they were on completely opposite sides and always would be.

But the days when he would show up at the bar alone, without Aphrodite in tow, he would take the stool next to her, order them both a glass of whiskey and ask, "Have you figured it out yet?"

He never elaborates, no matter how hard she presses him and it infuriates her. It leads to too many wars with words that leave her mentally exhausted and emotionally drained. It leads to threats from Regina about staying away from her lover, and warnings from Jefferson, their eccentric and often inebriated friend. Never would she understand the friendship between the God of Wine and the God of War, but it all led back to the same thing—-Emma being left in the dark about something that was so, so important that it felt like there was a whole in her chest that only seemed to get deeper with every passing day.

She didn't feel like a God, didn't feel immortal; she felt lost and confused, and alone and so very, very _human_.

And it wasn't until the memories came to haunt her in her dreams that she realized the truth.

The next time she sat in that bar, and he sat next to her, ordering the same thing he did every single time and asked, "Have you figured it out yet?" She took the glass, brought it up to her lips and paused, sending him a fleeting glance before tossing the glass back and draining it completely. She set the glass down then, and muttered, "It changes nothing."

She wasn't sure what was more heartbreaking then, the shocked expression on his face, or the pain that wrapped itself around her like a warm blanket. Turning on her stool to face him, a bittersweet smile on her pink lips, she spoke with an almost fragile coldness, "Who we are now and who we were then are different people, Killian. Did you really expect I would fall into the arms of my rival simply because of our previous stupidities? That was literally a lifetime ago. Perhaps it's time you move on."

She pushed herself off the stool then, ready to leave and surrender to the pain that was consuming her whole when he caught her by surprise, curling his fingers around her forearm and pulling her to him. There was so little distance between them that she could feel the warm breath from his lips hit her as he spoke, hushed and hoarse as he stared her down with a gaze that lit a fire within her. "And you're a fool to think that I would not know the games you play, _Emma_. Ever the cold and calculating Virgin Goddess, eh, love? Do not fool yourself into thinking this is over. It's not. Not by a long shot."

She yanked her arm free from his grip then, and stormed out of the bar as quickly as possible, slowing only when she was positive he wouldn't be following her. Just that quickly, it all came crashing down on her, the pain, the emotions, the struggle to remind herself that this was for the better. That she was sparing them both the heartache of a love that was simply _not to be_. But Killian was Killian and if she knew anything, it was that he was not going to back down without a fight.

Composing herself, she ran a hand through her hair, taking a deep, ragged breath and continued to strut confidently back to her small apartment.

Her doubts about them still being Gods without the faith and the prayers were quickly dismissed, as a new energy had taken a hold of her. It buzzed and breathed within her, and it pained her all the more to realize it had come alive with the realization of what had occurred with Ares in her previous life, but it was evidently clear that faith or no faith, Gods were Gods, and she would be damned if she faced Jones as anything but the stubborn, strong-willed Goddess of Wisdom that she was.

**cont.**


	2. fuel & fire

Was reading about your past self a form of narcissism?

Emma would have laughed at the thought if the memories were solid, if it weren't as if she and Athena were two completely different people. But they weren't, they were fuzzy, as if she had been watching it all occur as a bystander, instead of experiencing those moments herself. She can recall scenes, scents and sounds, but specific moments are lost on her. Actions, the way something would feel or taste to her were beyond her.

Emotions, however, seems to hit her like a flood, overwhelming and positively terrifying.

In this life, things were different.

On Olympus, she was ruled by logic, her mind constantly wrapped around strategy and battle plans. There was no time for emotion to casually slip in, much less overtake her completely. Here, she had too little to do and too much free time. The emotions came in and wrapped themselves around her as if they were trying to suffocate her.

And even as she recalled the few memories that were making their way back to her, she couldn't understand it. This illogical love for someone she had spent most of her existence loathing. The missing pieces were going to drive her crazy, and to make it worse, she would have Jones breathing down her neck now.

She hadn't meant to say a thing. She hadn't planned it, but she thought that perhaps telling him it didn't change anything would get him off of her case for a while.

It didn't.

Now he was on her even worse than before, and she hadn't even completely recalled all that had happened between them. More than anything, she remembered how painful it had been to love him. The nightmares were insignificant compared to the ache that burned in her chest that came when she woke up. At least in her dreams she was safe from the physical pain of a love she didn't wholly understand.

A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she reached up to rub her eyes, now aching from hours of staring at a computer screen. Her eyesight was going to get even worse than it had been before she 'awoke'.

The term still seemed strange to her, reminding her that there had been a time when she had no idea who she was. But that was years ago, and she hated that at that moment she wanted nothing more than to go back to that time. Not knowing who she was was painful and confusing, but dealing with this now seemed so much worse.

Running a hand over her face, she sighed once more, only to jump in her seat when her cell phone went off. Reaching for it, she didn't even glance at the name of the screen before answering, something she mentally cursed herself for seconds later.

“What are you up to, Emma?”

It was with a mix of relief and annoyance that she realized it was Jefferson's voice she was hearing, and not someone else's.

“Doing some reading, why?” She responded, making quick note of where she had stopped reading before she closed her laptop.

“I was wondering if perhaps you'd let me take you somewhere tonight.”

The suspicion that wrapped itself around her was immediate; the books never said anything about a friendship between Ares and Dionysus, and Emma didn't quite understand the close friendship between Killian and Jefferson, but it was there, and knowing what had just occurred between herself and Killian just the day before, she was paranoid.

“What for?”

“Am I not allowed to take my friends out?” He asked innocently, and she snorted. “I mean, we could have hung out had you been at the bar tonight, but you were so obviously absent.”

Ah, that's what he was wondering about.

“I was busy.”

“I'm sure you were. _Reading_.”

Lips pursed, Emma ran a hand through her hair and forced herself not to retort. “What do you want, Jefferson. I'm not exactly in the mood to go to some club or random party you've decided to latch onto.”

“Fine, let me come up there. We can have a drink up there.”

And he went straight to isolating her. She was not in the mood to become dissected for information by Killian's closest friend.

“Where are we going?” She answered with a heavy sigh.

“A place you might enjoy.”

She didn't like hearing that, but she sighed, “I'll be down in about 30 minutes.”

“Great.”

The dial tone filled her ears and she stared at her cell phone with a grimace. This was going to end horribly, she knew it. There was no way he had anything good in mind, but if she went about avoiding everyone, things were going to end badly. She needed to go about this like it didn't affect her in the slightest. And if she could convince Jefferson that she wasn't at all affected by this sudden influx of emotions, then maybe he would be able to convince Killian that she wanted nothing to do with him.

**.**

She was walking downstairs in a pair of black shorts, a flowy cream colored tank underneath her favorite red leather jacket and her usual knee high black boots. Her hair was loose, the curls flying into her face occasionally because of the wind.

She had been hoping that he would be outside, so she could avoid stepping into _Ichor_ and possibly having to interact with Killian some more, but of course, he was not. So with a nod to Billy, a warm smile on her lips at the sight of the messenger of the Gods on the job as a bouncer, she pushed past the front door and started scanning the dimly lit bar for Jefferson.

“How nice to see you, Emma.”

She had tensed almost immediately, terrified it would be Killian, but the accent was slightly different, the tone of voice was not at all the one that belonged to the God of War and when she turned around, she was face to face with Robin.

_Hephaestus_. It was a complicated relationship between the two of them; it was nowhere near as tense as the one between herself and Poseidon, or Aphrodite. Not nearly as violent as the one between herself and Ares, but it was definitely an uncomfortable thing.

“I've had a busy night.” She told him simply, giving him a small shrug. “I wasn't in the mood for a drink tonight, but Jefferson wanted to pull me away for a bit, so I decided I'd let him. I'd rather not risk him messing with my drinks in the future.”

Something tugged at the back of her head over that statement, and Robin lifted a brow in response to this, but she dismissed it. Instead, she found herself suddenly struck with the thought that, _Robin was here_. Which could only mean that Regina was not, and by default, neither was Killian. Scanning the bar again, she was somewhat relieved and she found herself relaxing, despite how tense she had previously been.

“You're hardly ever here yourself,” She told him, meeting his gaze and folding her arms over her chest. “What brings you here tonight?”

“I needed a drink.”

She knew she wasn't going to get more of an answer from him, and she wasn't sure she wanted one. They weren't exactly close, and she didn't want them to be.

“Emma, there you are.”

Relief flooded through her, and she was never more grateful for Jefferson's presence than she was at that moment. “Here I am.” She turned to him, “Where are we going?”

“Ah, somewhere far more interesting, I think.” He told her, snaking an arm around her shoulders and leading her away from Robin, giving him a curt nod in his farewell. “Enjoy your drink, Robin.”

There was a narrowing of eyes, a grunt and then she and Jefferson were outside.

A heavy sigh left her lips then. “That was so incredibly uncomfortable. I never know how to act around him. It's strange.”

“Well, you turned the guy down after he caught your sister cheating on him.” Jefferson reasoned, “He's the walking epitome of a bitter fuck boy, if I've got my 21st Century terminology down right.”

She didn't want to give him any reason to think she could have a good time, but Emma couldn't help the giggle that fell from her lips. “That's one of my favorites.”

A dark brow rose, “Of all the words and phrases, your favorite term is _fuck boy_?”

“It's an accurate description, and somehow they seem so offended to be referred to as such. As if they haven't been responsible for the horrendous labeling of women as sluts and whores. Because it is just absolutely abysmal to think of a woman enjoying the carnal pleasures in the way men so carelessly partake in.” She could feel the rage burn within her, and she was trying to restrain it.

She had never been particularly feminine, but it wasn't something she had done on purpose. It had just turned into something that was interpreted as her being repulsed by the thought of being associated with women when that wasn't the case. She had always been seen as someone powerful, strong, _masculine_. Her intelligence and knack for battle and bloodshed had somehow turned into something that made it possible for humanity to strip her of her gender, of her femininity and sexuality.

She didn't necessarily care, because their opinions of her now were insignificant, but when it came to women here and now, women who were strong and striving for a better life for themselves and other women, Emma was hyper aware of the inequalities between women and men. Hyper aware of the hypocrisy and the double-standards, and she wanted nothing more than to be able to change that.

“Aphrodite's sister comes out to play.” Jefferson teased, and she elbowed him in the side.

“You haven't told me where we're going.” She reminded him. “Why did you pull me away from my apartment?”

“I felt like you needed an escape.” He told her, and he turned a corner. His arms was still resting across her shoulders, so she moved in time with him, only to groan at the sudden glow of neon lights before her.

“I told you I didn't want to go to a club.”

“You'll get over that, come on.”

He led them to the front of the line, where a group of people groaned as the bouncer nodded at Jefferson and let them in without any hesitation. Once inside, all sound was drowned out by dance music, the bass making it seem like the world was pulsing beneath them. Jefferson led Emma to the bar, where he flirted with the bar keep for about a second before he handed them a couple of bubbling purple drinks that Emma didn't even want to touch.

“Come on, it's one of my specialties.” Jefferson told her, just before bringing his glass to his lips and draining it of all its contents.

“That's what worries me.” Emma shouted, a grimace on her lips as she lifted her own glass. She was still uncertain, still paranoid, but he was right in thinking that she needed an escape. So in a similar fashion, she brought the glass to her lips and tossed it back, draining it all in one go. Once she swallowed it all, she slammed the glass back down on the counter top and managed to avoid coughing up a lung. There was the faintest taste of grapes, his trademark of course, but it had been drowned out by layer after layer of varying types of alcohol. “What was that?”

“It's a secret.” He told her with a wink. “Now, dance with me.”

“You're ridiculous, I can't believe I let you drag me out.” She muttered, but took the hand he offered her and let him lead her onto the crowded dance floor.

She had never felt good in places like this. It was too crowded, too humid, the air itself was pulsing with the vibrations of each and every single individual person's desire. This was a place more for Aphrodite and Dionysus than it was for her.

But it would seem that Jefferson had meddled with their drinks just the right amount because suddenly she was light-headed, and her senses were dulled. No longer was her mind focused on the intense atmosphere, or the humidity and the beginnings of claustrophobia. Instead, she was letting him guide he across the dance floor, his fingers on her skin, somehow searing the sliver of flesh that peeked out from the smallest of slits between the hem of her blouse and the waistband of her shorts. Her body was swaying in time to the music, hips moving and rolling back against his and she was taken back to Olympus.

To a time with her and him, and the moment when she knew he would become one of her most trusted friends.

**.**

**.**

**.**

“_I don't know that this is a wise decision, Athena.”_

_She snorted, because of course it wasn't wise. She **knew** wisdom, she breathed it, lived it every single waking moment._

_And she was tired of it._

“_Since when do you care about what is wise and what is not, Dionysus?” She breathed out, letting herself fall back on the soft bed, she scent of red wine infiltrating her senses in a way that never had. She wondered if this was how it always smelled here, where he slept, or if he was doing it on purpose, to overwhelm her, or maybe give her the chance to over think things._

“_Since you started tossing wisdom out the window.” He told her dryly, “When the Goddess of Wisdom completely disregards it, it tends to come forth rather violently.”_

_She would be lying if she tried to claim absolute ignorance about what exactly he was speaking of, but her behavior **had** been careless as of late. And perhaps it was being childish, but she was sick of Zeus telling her she was still young, tired of people believing she wasn't understanding of certain things because she wasn't mature enough yet._

_If that's what they thought of her, she would show them just exactly how immature she could be._

“_You take what everyone says too seriously, Athena.” Dionysus muttered, fighting with himself before slipping onto his bed and hovering over her. “You seem to forget that I am the youngest one of us all.”_

_There was a sudden flash of uncertainty about all she had been planning, a flash of guilt over completely forgetting that Dionysus was treated in a similar fashion, and more often than her because of the way he simply was. Athena was choosing to act like an irresponsible child to spite her father, Dionysus was naturally young, alive, light-hearted, and he was far from deserving the treatment that was given to him on more than one occasion._

_She reached out then, nimble fingers running along his jawline as her gaze met his. “Perhaps. But you're a far better person than any one of them.”_

_It was then that she slid her hand to the back of his neck and pulled him to her, pressing her lips against his in the softest of kisses. It was one that she was surprised to find tugging at her heartstrings, and she clung to him and that moment with a fierceness she didn't expect._

_By the end of the night, she loathed herself for her ridiculous behavior, but she didn't regret her decision, and as they lay together, skin on skin, the scent of sex and red wine lingering about, she found that she was more grateful for him than she had ever previously been._

“_You aren't allowed to tell a soul.” She muttered, pushing herself into a sitting position and running a hand through her flattened curls._

_There was a smirk on his lips as he looked up at her, but he nodded. “I won't tell a soul. I would rather not risk your wrath.”_

_It was an almost truth, she knew it was and she knew that he knew she would be able to tell he was lying. There was no way he was going to be able to keep Ares from getting it out of him for long, much in the way it was going to be impossible for her to keep Aphrodite from finding out. She found it didn't bother her nearly as much as it would have, however. She supposed it was just the fact that she felt closer to him than she had been with anyone in quite some time. She trusted him._

**.**

**.**

**.**

She trusted him.

That was strange to think about.

She had given up her virginity to him, felt connected to him, and had trusted him.

“You alright there, Emma?”

She glanced up at him then, meeting his gaze with a bit of hesitance. Within the next moment, she found herself mimicking the action from her memory, the pads of her fingertips running lightly along his jawline as they came to a halt in the middle of wildly moving bodies.

At the action, his eyes widened a fraction, and for just a moment before he leaned in. Stepping forward, she was less than an inch away from meeting his lips with hers when Regina's annoying voice echoed beside her.

“Always latching onto my sloppy seconds, aren't we, Emma?”

Her head jerked in the direction the voice came from, and her eyes widened, because standing beside Regina, jaw locked and a too familiar rage in his blue eyes was Killian Jones.

“Well, if I worried about avoiding people who've slept with you, I wouldn't have any friends.” Emma responded, and though she could feel just how tense Jefferson had gotten beside her at the sight of his best friend's rage, he let out a soft laugh.

“Friends?”

Emma turned to Killian, arms folding over her chest as if that would keep her safe somehow. “Yes, friends. I am allowed to have those. Though, I don't see it being any of your business.”

There was a myriad of emotions flickering across his face then, and Emma knew he was fighting back the urge to say so much. The sight of it pained her, and she hated it. She wanted nothing more than to stop feeling for him then and there. It was difficult enough trying to reign in her distaste for Regina on a normal day, it was that much worse now that these inexplicable emotions came at her from all angles, and it was all too evident that she and Killian were here together.

“You are adorable.” Regina sighed, “Still so very clueless about absolutely everything.”

She was a little surprised then, her gaze meeting Killian's once more. She didn't understand why she was surprised that he hadn't told Regina that she had remembered. Of course, she hadn't been thorough in her honesty, but she had expected Regina would be one of the first to know after Jefferson. Though, at the same time she couldn't help wondering what Regina thought she knew that Emma didn't.

“Let's go, Killian.” Regina turned her back on them then, and while she wanted nothing more than to exhale her relief, Emma remained tense, because Killian had yet to move an inch. Of course, it wasn't in his nature to be obedient, but she very much wanted him gone.

Instead, he was staring them down, gaze darting shamelessly between herself and Jefferson.

“Killian it wasn't—-”

“Killian, I said _let's go_!” Regina's voice cut through Jefferson's words and a bitter laugh left her lips then.

Both Jefferson and Killian turned their gazes to her and she met Killian's eyes with a hardened gaze of her own. “Go on, Jones. Wouldn't want to keep her waiting, would you?”

_ Please leave, please leave, **please leave** . _

“Emma.” Jefferson's voice seemed strained, and she felt guilty knowing that he genuinely felt horrible about what had occurred.

It had been her fault after all.

“No, she's right. I should be off.” Killian muttered, blue eyes still holding a storm. “I'll talk to _you_ later, mate.”

He turned and left them alone then, and she deflated. The emotions came at her like a ton of bricks and suddenly standing in the middle of a crowded dance floor was the worst feeling ever. The bodies were closing in on her, the walls closing in on them and she could feel a horrible tightening in her chest as the ability to breathe properly evaded her.

“Jefferson—-”

“I've got you, Emma, come on.”

He led her out of the club through the back, and the second they stepped out into the back alley, Emma inhaled deeply. It didn't matter that there was a person in the far corner with a cigarette, or that the smell of garbage and urine lingered about. She could breathe and she could think.

“Emma, that—-”

“Jefferson, stop. It didn't mean anything.” She muttered, once she felt calm again. “I mean, I'm not trying to be mean, and I wasn't trying to use you or anything, really. I just—-I remembered. On the dance floor I remembered the day I first started to trust you. Back home.”

He was staring at her, calculating, and she hated that she couldn't read his emotions as easily as she could read most others'. “The day we—-?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “I wasn't—-I hadn't intended on trying to kiss you or get you to kiss me. I guess it was just like a muscle memory kind of thing.”

“These muscles don't have our memories.” He teased, and she laughed, grateful that he wasn't hurt or offended by what she had said.

She gave him a light shove and quirked a brow when he pulled out a box of cigarettes from his pockets.

“Don't give me that look. You're avoiding Killian. I have to deal with the wrath.” He muttered, pulling one out for himself before holding the box out to her.

Normally, she would have told him no. But the stress of the night was still lingering about, clouding her head and she reached for one, bringing it to her lips and letting him light it for her, before he lit his own.

She inhaled once, twice, letting the smoke fill her lungs before she exhaled. The effect wasn't immediate, but after a couple of times she was feeling a little calmer, a little more at ease.

It was then, that Jefferson finally spoke up again. “What are you doing, Emma? Why are you fighting so hard?”

She didn't know how to answer that. She wasn't sure she even really wanted to be able to answer that, because if anyone would be able to talk her out of things, it was him.

“That is for me to know, Jefferson.”

“You're struggling, I can see it. I know you hate seeing him with Regina, I know he's dying inside from wanting to be with you, I just don't understand why you're fighting so hard to make him believe that you don't care.” Jefferson breathed out, smoke filtering out from between his lips as he did so.

“How much do you remember of our past life, Jefferson?” She asked him quietly, cigarette dangling loosely in between her thumb and forefinger. “Because I don't remember all of it. It's been a while, and there are still so many pieces missing. This thing that happened between Ares and myself, I don't remember anything, except the end. That last night on Olympus.”

“That's all you remember?”

“About us? Yes.” She answered him honestly, “I don't remember falling in love, I don't remember anything but loathing him, and to wake up so suddenly to remember that I loved him and nothing more than that—-it's confusing and painful and infuriating.”

“So, why don't you talk to him about it?”

“I can't—-I don't need to give him any reason to think I'm interested in continuing what we started on Olympus. Not when I don't even know how or why it started.” She brought the cigarette to her lips again and inhaled.

“Is it so horrible to allow yourself to fall in love with him again? To allow yourself to get to know him now? To speak to him at all? I mean, he thinks you know everything, Emma. The least you could do is explain to him that you don't. He doesn't understand why you're so set against it.”

“Maybe it's better that way.”

“How? All it's going to do is make him all the more determined to talk you out of it.”

Emma took one last drag of her cigarette before tossing the butt to the ground and digging the heel of her boot into it until it was out. “I'm going back home now, Jefferson.”

“Emma—-”

“I don't want to talk about this with you anymore. Drop it.”

“At least come back to _Ichor._ You know as well as I, that in hiding, he will only hunt you down. And the place is as close to home as you're ever going to get.”

She didn't know what made her agree with him so quickly, but she knew deep down, that he was right and that disturbed her. It was just another thing she didn't understand, or couldn't remember.

“I'll think about it.” Was all she said, before she turned and made her way through the dark alley, heading back to her apartment.

** . **

That night another memory came to her. A memory of sneaking off to some unknown place, of hiding out, away from the world around them from sun down, to sunrise, and she awoke with a fire burning within her. The tears came suddenly, and as unexpectedly as the ache in her chest.

She hated this, hated it so much.

She didn't want to love him.

It terrified her.

In all she knew of him, all she had learned, it was impossible to believe he was even capable of love. What did it say about her, that she had somehow managed to fall in love with someone like him?

She had considered him a monster.

And then, she went and fell in love with that monster.

** . **

If there is one thing certain, it is that things always end. Some sooner, some later, but the ending that comes is always inevitable. The same can be said for the change that follows. Here and now, things are different. She has felt it every single day of her life. Every breath, every single movement from the twitch of a smile to the scrape of the knee.

_ She _is different.

So, why he expected her to repeat the things they did during their time on Olympus, she does not understand. Does he not feel a difference? Regardless of all the memories he had recalled, she was determined to not let the Fates play their little games with them. Because of them, they had been together in the end, but Olympus had crumpled and fallen apart.

And they turned to dust right along with it.

She had been terrified that last night that their love would be buried in the rubble, and now she wished for nothing more.

“You've been avoiding me.”

Her fingers tightened around the glass she had been holding, and she damned Jefferson for talking her out of hiding in her apartment. But he had been right about _ Ichor _ being the closest thing any of them had to a home here, even if it was nothing more than a stupid bar filled to the brim with often inebriated former Gods and Goddesses.

Turning in her secluded seat in the back of the bar, she met his accusing gaze. She had ditched the stool she often favored in hopes that he would have assumed that she would not come in for the night, but it seemed that even in this life the Fates were going to play their cruel games with her.

“How nice of you to notice.” She muttered, willing herself to remain as stoic as possible. She could not risk falling into that routine again—-the routine of letting him work his way under her skin. It would not end well. “Avoiding someone is pretty normal, when you've got no interest in speaking to them at all. You never had much interest in speaking to me before, what difference does it make now that the memories are rising to the surface?”

He slipped into the seat opposite of her and she found herself sitting up straighter, “You know exactly what the difference is.”

She knew that he thought she was completely aware of every single detail of their little Olympus affair and he had no right expecting anything of her simply because they had been together once before.

“And I recall telling you that it changes nothing.” Emma bit out, eyes darting around the bar, searching for one person in particular and being genuinely surprised that she wasn't there. “Had a fight with Regina, did you?”

Dark brows furrowed, lips pursed for the briefest of moments before a smirk slid onto his lips and Emma realized she'd made a mistake.

“Tell me, Emma,” He started, shifting in his seat and leaning across the table in between the two of them so he was much closer to her than she would have liked in the small booth, “If it changes nothing, why do you care just how much time I spend with Regina?”

“I don't.” She responded, probably a little too quickly, but it was too late to dwell on that. “But I'd like it if she could get you off my case at this very moment, because I'm getting tired of you very, very quickly.”

“It's not the first time I tire you out, love,” He breathed with a hooded gaze that sent shivers running up her spine, “And I'm telling you now that it will certainly not be the last.”

She was taken back to her dream, her_ memory _ and she felt the heat rush to her face before she could stop it. “You're disgusting.”

Confusion flickered across his features again, but this time it stuck, and Emma wondered what kind of reaction he was expecting from her. She knew he couldn't have expected any good response to his words, but that reaction was definitely not something he had been planning to get out of her.

Lips pursed, Emma's grip on the glass she had been holding tightened that much more. This was her chance to explain to him that she didn't remember everything.

“Jones—-”

“What a pretty picture.”

_ Of fucking course she would show up now _. Emma turned her attention to Regina, expression blank. “What do you want?”

“Just checking in on the lovebirds. After all, you had been ready to make out with his _best friend _last night”

There was a sickly sweet smile and Emma wanted nothing more than to punch her in the face then and there. Without responding to Regina's comment, she turned to Killian, who was as tense and furious as he'd been the previous night, as if he had just remembered what he and Regina had stumbled upon in the middle of the dance floor. She tossed back the remainder of her drink and pushed herself to her feet. “We need to talk. You know where to find me.”

He was surprised by her words, by her clear invitation to her apartment with the direction their conversations had been going as of late. But she knew, that the next time he was free, he would come find her. Still, he didn't utter a word, and she knew that it had something to do with Regina being there.

Now all she had to do was mentally prepare herself for the conversation that was to come.

When she reached her apartment, however, there was a young boy sitting against the wall a book clutched to his chest and a backpack on the floor beside him. Brows furrowing, she paused in the middle of pulling her keys out and carefully walked up to him.

“Um, hey there. Can I help you?”

The boy's head jerked up, eyes wide and he threw his arms around her, an act that made her freeze completely. “It's really you! I found you!”

“Uh—-W-who are you?”

He pulled back, making her feel a little less awkward now that he was no longer holding her. “My name is Henry. And I'm your son.”

Her heart dropped to the floor, and she cursed herself for forgetting all that had occurred before she was thrown into a world of reincarnated ancient beings.

Her son was here, and his presence was going to do nothing more than add fuel to the fire.

**cont.**


End file.
